At The End of All Things
by muhnemma
Summary: A year after the defeat of Darth Traya, the Exile finally catches up with Revan in the Unknown Regions. Meanwhile, their friends have their own battles to fight.
1. Temple

_"Revan knew that the true war is not against the Republic. It waits for us beyond the Outer Rim. And she has gone to fight it, in her own way…Perhaps you will go there with her, and do battle at the end of all things." _****

**_Darth Traya. _**

* * *

The woman stood in front of the stone temple, staring unblinkingly at the door. Rain pelted down from the sky, soaking straight through her robes to the skin underneath. Despite the stinging chill of the water, she didn't tremble or shiver, but stood firm. The temple towered above her, its tallest tip almost piercing the stormy clouds. She had seen many such buildings in her recent journeys, but only in passing. They were merely landmarks that told her she was going in the right direction. Now she was close enough to touch one. 

Steeling herself, she began the long ascent of the steps that would lead her to the entrance. During the trip up her eyes were constantly lowered, picking out a safe path to walk. One wrong step could send her crashing back down to the unyielding rock pathway below. Her progress was slow, but eventually she found herself facing the large, and seemingly unmovable, door that she had glimpsed at the bottom of the steps. Instinctively, she knew that it couldn't be pushed aside with her hands or prised open with a weapon, no matter how hard she may try. She allowed her eyes to flicker shut and slowed her breathing, forcing herself to remain calm. When she felt she was ready she reached out with her mind, with the Force, and felt for the door.

A scraping sound echoed dimly through the air, almost lost in a rumble of thunder. The woman opened her eyes to discover that the door had moved aside for her. A soft light trickled out of the temple, inviting her inside. She stepped hesitantly over the threshold, relaxing slightly when the door didn't slam shut behind her. A small gasp escaped her lips.

Sprawled on the floor at her feet was a body, blood oozing from underneath it. It wasn't the sight of a corpse that shocked her; after years of combat reminders of death no longer scared her. It was the corpse's face that terrified her. She knew that when people became corrupted by the Dark Side, their outward appearances began to reflect the decay of their souls. She had seen it in many of the Sith she had fought and killed over the years, but she had never seen anything like this before. Not even Darth Sion had looked so completely devoid of life. The skin was the grey of ashes, and deep cracks ran through it. The lips were completely black, as if they had been burned. When she looked at the eyes staring blankly at her she couldn't help but shudder; they were blood red- not just the iris, the entire eye.

She stepped carefully over the body, suppressing the fear that one of the hands would come to life and grab her ankle. She turned her attention to the rest of the temple. The walls were plain and dark, bearing no decoration. A series of low stone benches were fixed to the ground in the middle of the room, leaving two walkways running up either side. More of the sinister corpses littered the room, most of them strewn over the benches.

At the very front of the temple, raised on a platform, was a large and intricately carved holocron. In front of the holocron, silent and unmoving, stood a robed figure. As the woman watched, the figure reached down and grabbed something. Seconds later the familiar hiss of a lightsaber being activated reached her ears. In one swift movement, the person drove the lightsaber into the heart of the holocron. They seemed to struggle with it for a few moments, trembling slightly. Then, with a sudden rush of noise, the holocron exploded. The woman threw up her hands to protect her face from the fragments flying through the air, but the other person remained still.

Without turning, they began to speak. "Are you the one who has been following me?"

The woman nodded, and then remembered that she couldn't be seen. "Yes."

"Why?"

"I want to help you."

The person sighed. "I'm supposed to fight alone, Exile."

The Exile blinked, slightly staggered. "How do you know who I am?"

"News of you travels fast, even out here."

Deciding to ignore this, the Exile repeated what she had said before. "I want to help you, Revan. I am worthy of helping you."

Revan finally turned to face her and slowly descended the steps of the platform. When they were face to face, Revan spoke quietly, almost in a whisper. "You don't know the danger you face. How can you know you are worthy?"

"Kreia-"

"Kreia!" Revan snapped, looking sharply at the Exile. "What do you know of her?"

"We travelled together for a while. She-"

"May I?"

The Exile frowned, confused. "May you wh-" She trailed off, suddenly realising what Revan meant. Closing her eyes, she nodded her permission. Only a few seconds passed before she felt Revan enter her mind and begin to trawl through her memories, the experiences she had shared with her old teacher. She didn't know how long they stood there, but when she opened her eyes again Revan was smiling sadly.

"You followed me once, Kezia." Revan's voice was a whisper again. "Look where that led you. Are you willing to follow me again, knowing this time what you risk?"

"Yes." Replied the Exile, without a moment of hesitation.

Revan regarded her in silence. Finally she nodded, looking resigned. "Very well. I just hope you know what you're leaving behind."


	2. Prospective Pupil

Mical waited at the door, nervously tugging on the sleeve of his shirt. He cast an impatient glance at the rapidly sinking sun and sighed; if they were going to go to Khoonda they would need to leave soon. Timing was all important, and if they showed up after dark the chances that there pleas would be listened to would be greatly reduced. Not that their chances were that wonderful anyway. The residents of Khoonda were never very receptive to the arguments of Jedi. The sound of shoes clacking against the stone floor echoed down the hallway and reached Mical. Relieved, he turned to face his companion. His happiness evaporated almost instantly.

"Are you ready to leave?" The woman asked as she came to a halt in front of him. Mical shook his head slowly. She frowned. "Why not?"

Mical inclined his head to her in a show of respect, hoping that this gesture would appease her slightly. "Forgive me for saying so, Master Shan, but your attire isn't…" He trailed off, searching for the right word. "Appropriate." He finished timidly.

A muscle in Bastila's jaw tightened. "I am wearing the traditional robes of our Order, _padawan_." She put as much emphasis on the last word as she possibly could.

Now looking more nervous than ever, Mical stumbled on. "I meant no disrespect. If we're going into Khoonda it may be wise not to flaunt the fact that we are Jedi."

Bastila snorted. "We are going to discuss the training of a Force sensitive child; I don't think we'll be able to disguise that we are Jedi."

Mical began to reply, but decided against it. Since arriving on Dantooine and meeting Bastila, he had learned that most of the time it was useless to argue with her. Smiling at her pupil's silence, Bastila led the way out of the enclave. They walked over the grassy plains side by side, neither of them saying anything. It wasn't a long journey to Khoonda, but by the time they got there the sun had sunk almost completely out of sight behind the hills.

The house they were looking for was a short way from the main building. It was tiny, more of a hut than a house. Before they had been wiped off the planet, Mandalorian mercenaries raided many farms, destroying crops and killing anyone who tried to stop them. The owner of this house was one of their casualties; his farm was burned down and his wife and two daughters slaughtered. Unable to face the arduous task of rebuilding his life, he had decided to start a new one in Khoonda with his young son.

As Mical and Bastila trooped up the dirt path, they noticed that the walls and roof of the house were slowly crumbling. The father worked as a mechanic, taking any job he could find around the small settlement; credits were very hard to come by.

Bastila raised her hand and tapped gently on the door. Someone inside shouted and heavy footsteps thudded towards them. The door swung open, revealing a large, haggard looking man. His eyes moved quickly over Bastila, taking in her clothing. A frown creased his face and he moved to shut the door again, but Mical hurried forwards and stopped him.

"Please, sir, we only wish to speak to you."

The man looked at him warily. "What about?"

"Your son."

"Izi?" His frown deepened. "What about him?"

Mical started to answer, but Bastila spoke over him. "We wish to speak about this matter privately." She said, noticing the Khoonda residents who were beginning to gather and stare at them. "May we please come in?"

The man hesitated, considering whether to grant her request. Eventually the size of the growing crowd convinced him to allow them entrance; he stood back and opened the door wider, giving them just enough room to squeeze past. As soon as they were inside he slammed the door and bolted it shut.

The tiny house consisted of two rooms: a kitchen and a general living area. They were divided by a worn curtain that hung limply from the ceiling. Without waiting to be invited, Bastila seated herself in a wooden chair next to the fireplace. Mical, mindful of his manners, remained standing. After peeking out of the only window to reassure himself that the crowd was dispersing, the man turned to face the two Jedi.

"Now, what about Izi?"

Mical and Bastila exchanged anxious glances, unsure of how to explain. Bastila nodded to Mical, indicating that he should make the first attempt. Taking a deep breath, he began. "Well, Mr.…?" He paused, realising that he didn't actually know the man's name.

"Ezekiel. My name is Ezekiel. The same as my son's." He gestured towards the small boy who was already dozing on a mattress in the corner.

"Ezekiel." Mical nodded. "Your son first came to our attention when we saw him picking fruit near the enclave. We-"

"He has been causing trouble?" Ezekiel interrupted.

"No!" Mical rushed to correct the misunderstanding. "Izi has done nothing wrong. Quite the opposite, in fact."

Ezekiel's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What do you mean?"

Mical looked over at Bastila, pleading silently for help. Bastila sighed and took up the explanation. "We believe that your son is Force sensitive."

"'Force sensitive'? I don't understand." The look on his face suggested that he did understand, but Bastila decided to make herself clear anyway.

"It means that your son has the potential to be trained as a Jedi."

This pronouncement was greeted by silence. Ezekiel looked from Bastila to Mical and then back again. After several long moments, made even longer by the deathly quiet, Ezekiel began to speak. "My son," He said softly. "My Izi… a Jedi?"

Bastila rose swiftly from her seat and moved towards the man, only stopping when her face was inches from his. Mical tried to hide his wince; Bastila was doing nothing to appear non-threatening. "He could be if you'll let us train him." She murmured.

For a moment Ezekiel looked as if he was going to laugh. Once again he scanned the faces of the Jedi, this time searching for a sign that the whole thing was a joke. When he found no trace of humor in their expressions, his own face changed abruptly, contorting into a look of rage. "You want to turn Izi into one of you?" He kept his voice quiet, so as to avoid waking the sleeping child, but it shook with anger.

Mical hurried over to Bastila's side with the intention of removing her from the argument. She was a skilled warrior, and her talents were nothing short of incredible, but her abilities fell short when it came to dealing with people. She often managed to say exactly the wrong thing, infuriating whoever she was talking to. If she did that now, then Izi would lose the chance to harness his potential. Mical placed his hand on her shoulder but she merely glanced at him briefly before shrugging him off and turning back to Ezekiel.

"Ezekiel, please. Think of the life we could give him."

Ezekiel's fists clenched at his sides. "What do you mean?" He asked, his voice dangerous.

"Bastila-" Mical warned, desperate to prevent what he knew she was about to say.

She ignored him, her eyes still fixed on Ezekiel. "Be honest with yourself; this is no place for a child to live."

Mical groaned inwardly. Whatever chance there had been of Ezekiel listening to them had just evaporated. His face, which had previously looked pale and sickly, was slowly beginning to turn a shade of violent red, and he shook with the effort of suppressing his anger. Mical had just clamped a hand around Bastila's wrist and, ignoring her protests, was starting to drag her away when Ezekiel exploded. A plate, the first thing that had come to his hand, shattered against the wall, narrowly missing Mical's head.

"Well, really!" Bastila exclaimed, her own temper now rising. "There was _no _need for that!"

Ezekiel bellowed and Mical quickened his pace, almost dragging Bastila along behind him. They reached the door and stumbled out onto the dirt pathway. Ezekiel stayed inside his house, staring at both of them with loathing. "You know nothing about me or my child! _Nothing!"_ He screamed. "If either of you ever come back here, I'll feed you to the nearest pack of kath hounds!" He turned his back on them and slammed the door, causing the whole house to tremble precariously.


	3. Family

Carth closed his eyes and rubbed his pounding head as the Ithorian told him about the latest setback in the restoration project. It seemed like such a small problem to him (they were having trouble obtaining a rare species of wild flower) but the Ithorians were up in arms about it. Sometimes he wished he was back on his ship, where things were much simpler, but if his presence on Telos would help the project then on Telos he would stay. Shaking himself slightly, he forced himself to focus on the Ithorian's words.

_"…Negotiations have almost completely broken down because they're demanding a ridiculously high price. We need to resolve this soon or it will be too late; they need to be planted before the frost comes." _

A beeping alerted Carth to the fact that he had an incoming call, saving him from having to think up an answer. Mumbling an apology to the Ithorian, he flicked a switch and his screen flickered into life, displaying an image of a very bored looking woman. It was the secretary they had insisted on giving him when he first arrived here.

"Sorry to disturb you, Admiral Onasi," She drawled. "But you have a visitor."

Carth frowned. "Could you ask them to come back later? I'm in the middle of something impo-"

"It's your son, sir." His secretary interrupted.

Upon hearing this, the Ithorian rose. _"I will return at a more convenient time." _

"Please don't feel that you need to leave, I'm sure Dustil wouldn't mind waiting for a few minutes." Carth tried to reassure him.

_"It's no problem. I will return later." _The Ithorian nodded to Carth and exited the room quickly. Carth turned back to the screen.

"Shall I send him in, sir?" The secretary asked. Carth nodded in response and she disappeared from the screen. Moments later, the door slid open again and Dustil walked in.

"Dustil!" Carth grinned, standing up and moving around the desk to his son. They embraced briefly, slightly awkwardly, before Dustil dropped heavily into a chair. Carth leant against the edge of the desk and observed him with concern. He had only just noticed how pale his skin was, and the dark circles underneath his eyes. It looked like he had had a few restless nights recently. Carth was about to ask what was wrong when Dustil began to speak.

"Father," His voice was choked. "I've come to tell you… To ask you…I need advice." He looked up at Carth, a silently plea in his eyes.

"What's this about?" Carth asked, full of concern but pleased that Dustil now trusted him enough to seek his opinion.

"It's Lysa."

Carth had to bite back a grin. Lysa was a young woman who worked in the local cantina; most of her family had been killed in the attack that had destroyed Carth's own family, but an older brother had survived along with her. Dustil had met her nearly two years ago when she consoled him after he had wagered a particularly large amount of credits on a game of pazaak and lost. He had been crazy about her ever since and, unless Carth was very much mistaken, Lysa felt the same way. If he had to guess, Carth would say that Dustil had come for advice on how to propose. Relaxing slightly, he moved back to his comfortable chair and flopped into it.

"I have to say, I thought you were never going to get around to it." Carth smirked.

Dustil looked up sharply. "What do you mean?"

"Lysa!" When Dustil just looked at him in confusion, Carth began to think that maybe he'd misread the situation. "I assumed you wanted to tell me you were going to propose to her."

"No," Dustil shook his head. "I've already done that."

"Oh, right. You've – what?!" Carth was on his feet again. "When did this happen?"

"Last night. I asked, she said yes."

Carth's brow furrowed. "If she said yes, why do you look so miserable?"

Dustil averted his eyes, fixing them firmly on the floor. "I'm having second thoughts."

"Well," Carth sighed. "You are young… Maybe a bit too young to settle down."

"It's not that!" Dustil snapped. "I love Lysa, and I don't want anyone else but her."

"Then what is it?" Carth asked, confusion growing.

Dustil rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. After a long silence, he muttered, "I've been having dreams."

"What about?"

"Dantooine. Bastila, and that man who came here with the Exile… Disciple, or something."

Carth crossed his arms over his chest and leant back against the wall. "I don't understand what this has to do with you marrying Lysa."

Dustil raised his head and looked at his father. "These dreams… they're not like yours. When you're in touch with the Force, your dreams can sometimes have a deeper meaning. They can show you something from the future, or a forgotten memory, or they can point you in a certain direction."

"Like how Revan used to dream of her old life?" Carth asked quietly, desperately trying not to remember how Revan used to wake screaming from her nightmares.

Dustil nodded. "These dreams are trying to tell me something. I need to go to Dantooine, I need to help Bastila and the Disciple."

"Help them to rebuild the Order?"

"Yes."

Carth felt a pang in his chest at the thought of his son leaving Telos. He wouldn't try to persuade him to stay, Dustil had to do what he felt was right, but something still didn't make sense. "Why does that stop you marrying Lysa? If you're worried about Jedi being banned from having emotional attachments-"

Dustil snorted. "I'm not worried about that. I think you and Revan make it perfectly clear that that rule doesn't always apply."

Blushing slightly, Carth cleared his throat and pressed on. "Then why can't you marry Lysa?"

Dustil averted his eyes once again. "A Jedi's life is dangerous, especially in these times. I'd have to be away for long periods of time, searching for potential Jedi and fending off any threats."

"I'm sure Lysa would be safe on Dantooine…" Carth trailed off as he saw the pain on Dustil's face. Suddenly, he realised what was wrong.

"That's what you thought, wasn't it?" His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. "That mother and I would be safe here?"

Carth felt frozen to the spot where he was standing. "Dustil," He croaked. "It's not the same. Lysa might be perfectly safe on Dantooine."

"_Might _be." Dustil spat. "I won't take that chance. If I have a family, I want to be able to protect them." Dustil's eyes locked onto Carth's. "I won't be like you."

Carth winced as if he had been slapped. Dustil instantly regretted his words, and began to apologise only to be waved aside by Carth. "It's okay. You're right." Carth sat down stiffly and looked at Dustil. "How are you going to tell her?"

Dustil sighed. "I really don't know."

* * *

The next morning, Dustil sat slumped in a cold metal seat. The circles under his eyes had gotten darker and a bruise bloomed on his cheek. Lysa hadn't been happy when he had broken the news to her. She had begged him to stay, or to allow her to accompany him to Dantooine, but he had firmly refused. The fight had raged all night, and had only ended a couple of hours previously. As soon as it was over, he had gone down to the shuttle bay booked himself a place on the next transport to Dantooine. 

On the many monitors in the waiting room, the word "Dantooine" suddenly flashed in bright yellow letters. Grabbing his small pack of belongings, Dustil hurried over to the correct hangar and stood at the back of the small queue of people waiting to board. As he climbed into the ship, he threw a last regretful look over his shoulder. He hoped that Carth would understand why he didn't say goodbye; he just couldn't stay any longer.


	4. Breaking

The sun was beginning to set on Korriban. It sank slowly through the sky, casting long shadows over the sand. Even though he was hidden in the deepest part of the Sith academy, Atton sensed the fading light and had to suppress a shudder. The visions were always worse during the night. He could hide from them in the day, but somehow, as soon as darkness fell, they gathered the strength to leave their ancient caves and hunt him down. No matter how far he ran, no matter how well he concealed himself, they always found him in the end. Leaving the planet was no longer an option; the visions had drained him of all willpower. It took every ounce of his determination to try and hide himself from them each night.

Atton had never meant for this to happen. In the first few weeks after Kezia left, he had come so close to slipping back into his old self. The thought of what he could become comforted him; he knew that the man he used to be wouldn't care that Kezia had disappeared, leaving him behind. If he became that man again, he wouldn't have to feel the pain that her absence caused him. Only one thought prevented him from transforming back into Jaq: Kezia needed him. He didn't know how he knew this, but he was sure of it. He should have been killed more than a hundred times by now, but miraculously he still lived. The reason he survived so many near death situations was that he had a task to fulfill; he had to protect her. The cold blooded killer Jaq wasn't capable of guarding Kezia's life, but Atton Rand, Jedi Sentinel, was.

Once he dragged himself away from the pazaak pit where he was drowning his troubles with juma, he made a list. It contained the names of several planets. Dantooine. Telos. Nar Shaddaa. On each of these planets he hoped to find someone who had information that might give him a clue as to where Kezia had gone. He and Mical had parted ways without a word to each other, so Atton never found out where he intended to go. Despite this, something told him that Mical had returned to Dantooine. After all, it was where he had had joined them, and it made sense that he would want to be near to whatever remained of the Jedi relics. He was confident that he would find Mira on Nar Shaddaa, even though she hadn't said where she was going either. It was her home, and the only place she ever seemed to feel comfortable. Telos was something of a gamble. The last time he had been there, Kezia had been dragged off to speak to an admiral. Although he didn't know precisely what they had discussed, he knew that the main topic had been Revan. If Kezia had decided to follow Revan, maybe Carth Onasi could shed some light on where she was going.

Korriban was not on the list of planets. He had no reason to visit it; anyone who might be able to help him certainly wouldn't have settled on the Sith planet. He had already visited Nar Shaddaa and Dantooine and was on his way to Telos when he made a sudden change of direction. Both Dantooine and Nar Shaddaa had been disappointments; Mical hadn't been able to tell him anything useful, and he couldn't find any trace of Mira on Nar Shaddaa. Although he was still intent on going to Telos, his hopes of finding anything helpful there weren't high. He was less than three days away from his destination when a memory suddenly hit him. Standing outside an ancient cave on Korriban, waiting for Kezia to appear. When she finally emerged, she was exhausted and wounded. She never told anyone what happened inside the cave, but whatever it was changed her. It was as if she had a new purpose. Atton convinced himself that visiting the cave was vital to find her, and, despite how close he was to Telos, he changed course and began traveling to Korriban.

From the moment he set foot inside the cave he regretted his decision. The visions were on him almost instantly. Some of them were of the Jedi he had murdered when he fought for Revan, but mostly they were of Kezia. Sometimes he would see her lying on the floor, her body bruised and broken, her wide eyes glazed over. At other times she would kiss and caress Mical, all the while staring over his shoulder at Atton, a sadistic glint of pleasure in her eyes. He would see her being tortured and killed; a lot of the time her tormentor was the Jaq version of himself. In one of the worse visions, she would hold him and kiss him, before roughly shoving him away and calling him a killer, lashing out at him with her bare hands.

After months of this, Atton's mind was finally beginning to slip. He was slowly becoming convinced that the visions were real. When he saw Kezia's lifeless body, he would cradle her in his arms and sob. He would attack Mical for the gloating look on his face, and when Kezia called him a murderer and looked at him in disgust he would plead with her not to hate him. When he saw himself, Jaq, hurting her he would plunge his lightsaber through his chest. Hatred for himself and for the Kezia that spurned him was growing inside him, pulling him back to the Dark Side after all he had done to fight it.

Tonight was no different from any other night since he arrived on Korriban. The visions took slightly longer to find him than normal, because he'd managed to drag himself a little bit further away than he could normally, but they got to him in the end. This time the vision was of Kezia, smiling sweetly. She sauntered over to him and gently brushed away the strands of hair that had fallen over his eye. That done, she lay her palm flat against his cheek and stood on tiptoe, pressing a kiss against his lips. For a moment, Atton forgot what was about to happen and allowed himself to melt into the kiss, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close.

Then her hands were against his chest, pushing him away as forcefully as she could. The warmth in her eyes had been replaced by a burning anger, and she began to scream that he was a murderer once more. Atton backed away, covering his ears with his hands and shaking his head. But Kezia advanced, still screeching and raining blows down onto his head. Something inside Atton snapped. With a bellow, he leaped onto Kezia, knocking her to the floor. He wrapped his hands around her neck and began to squeeze. For a moment she looked shocked and didn't move, but then she began to slap at his hands. He ignored her, and kept his hands firmly in place until her struggles ceased.

When it was over, the fury that had consumed him left abruptly. He stared down at Kezia in horror, unable to comprehend what he had just done. Tears already coming to his eyes, he gathered her in his arms and sobbed into her hair.

From the shadows, two men watched. Their faces were cracked and grey, and when they spoke their voices were hoarse.

"_Do you intend to kill him?" _One asked, his eyes fixed on Atton.

The other shook his head. _"No, he will be useful. We will take him with us when we leave. A few more days of this should break him completely, and then he will be ours." _


	5. Keeping Secrets

The torn armband lay on the ground, covered in dust and dirt. An almost imperceptible shiver ran through it. The shiver became a tremble, and then it began rocking from side to side. Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, it began to rise into the air. It rose one inch, then two, and soon it had cleared the tips of the long blades of grass. Suddenly, a crash echoed through the jungle and the armband fluttered back down to the earth.

Mira let out a shriek of frustration and drove her fist into the nearest tree trunk. This was the first time she had managed to use the Force successfully in weeks, and some noisy nerf-herder had just gone and broken her concentration. Irritably, she plucked the armband out of the grass and stuffed it into her pocket, too tired to make a second attempt. Even this small use of her power exhausted her; without a master to train her, her abilities weren't developing as they should.

She pushed herself to her feet, dusting off her already grubby trousers, and began the long trek back to camp. On the way she saw only a few Mandalorians, who nodded curtly to Mira if they noticed her. After almost a year on Dxun, after months of fighting to prove herself worthy, they were finally beginning to accept her into the clan. She doubted very much whether she would have been allowed to join them if anyone else but Canderous was Mandalore. He had seen her skills in use often enough when they were fighting with the Exile to know that she was useful, and so had allowed her to accompany him back to Dxun when she found herself at a loose end after Kezia left.

Sometimes she questioned the wisdom of following Canderous; it may have been better to stay with the other Jedi who could help her with training. However, no matter how sweet he could be, Mira didn't think she could stand spending a prolonged period of time alone with Mical, and Atton had been too consumed with his own self pity to make good company. As for Visas, she had disappeared without a trace. She was probably better off with Canderous.

She reached the entrance of the camp and headed for the computer room, where she knew Canderous would be. Not really paying attention to her surroundings, she almost tripped over Zuka, who was crouched over something on the ground. She murmured an apology, but he waved it away and gestured for her to join him. Wincing at the ache in her legs caused by the long journey, she dropped down to her knees beside him.

Zuka noticed her discomfort, and although she couldn't see his grin she could hear it in his voice. _"Is the jungle still getting the better of you?" _

"_I can normally handle the walk," _She replied in Mando'a; she had picked up the language quickly, presumably aided in some way by the Force. _"But I've been trying to train my powers again. It's really draining." _

The amusement in Zuka's voice was replaced with distaste. _"You shouldn't bother with those Jedi tricks; all a warrior needs is blaster and blade." _

Mira shrugged. _"The Jedi know some handy skills." _She turned her attention to the tangle of wires and computer parts piled in front of Zuka. _"What's all that?" _

"_We found a bike out in the jungle. Nothing special, almost a low range swoop bike, but if we can get it working it'll make moving around much easier. This is its computer." _

"_How's it going?"_

Zuka sighed. _"Badly. I need more parts than we have here. Maybe Mandalore can get some on his trip."_

"_Trip?" _Mira asked, ears perking up.

"_He's heard that there's another group of Mandalorian mercenaries on Nar Shaddaa, and he wants to go and investigate." _

"_When's he leaving?" _Mira got quickly back to her feet, the sudden rush of annoyance she felt clouding the pain in her legs.

"_Tomorrow. Why?" _

Mira ignored him and ran to the computer room. As she entered, Kex was coming out. He sneered and made sure to shove her with his shoulder but didn't say anything; of all the Mandalorians,Kex despised Mira the most. She waited until he had walked around the corner before slipping into the room, shutting the door quietly behind her. Canderous was crouched over the workbench, making adjustments to the assault rifle they had recovered a few days ago.

"When were you going to tell me?" Mira asked in Basic. Even when she was alone with Canderous, she normally spoke in Mando'a out of respect for him; but she was so angry that she didn't care whether he was offended or not.

Canderous started slightly, but didn't turn around. He carried on dissecting the rifle, carefully choosing upgrades for it from a small assortment of blaster parts. "I wasn't going to." He muttered, not asking what Mira meant.

This answer angered Mira even more. When she spoke, she had to fight hard to keep her voice from trembling with suppressed rage. "Why not? And I'm trying to talk to you, look at me."

Canderous sighed and placed the rifle gently onto the workbench. Reaching up, he loosened the fastenings around his helmet and pulled it off. He ran his fingers through his flattened hair as he turned to face Mira. Despite herself, she felt a small thrill when he removed his headgear; she was the only one in the clan who he would show his face to. She shook the feeling off, determined not to let him see it.

"I didn't tell you," Canderous began, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor. "Because I didn't want you to come."

"Why?" Mira asked, placing her hands on her hips. "Haven't I been helpful when we've gone to persuade mercenaries to join us before? Besides, Nar Shaddaa was my home! How could you have thought about going there without taking me, without even telling me?"

Canderous' eyes hardened and he straightened his back, pulling himself up to his full height. "You would do well to learn that you are a part of this clan, just like everybody else here, and just like everybody else it's not your place to question my logic or orders!"

Mira snorted and rolled her eyes. "I am _not _just another member of the clan. Don't pretend that that's all I am."

Canderous looked as if he was going to argue for a moment, but then he covered his eyes with his hand, suddenly looking very weary. He muttered something unintelligible, making Mira frown. "What?" She asked.

"I said I thought if I took you, you'd want to stay." He almost shouted.

Mira was silent for a few seconds, taken aback. "What do you mean?"

"Just forget it." Canderous growled, turning back to the workbench and reaching for his helmet. Mira hurried to his side and wrapped her hand around his wrist, preventing him from retrieving the helmet.

"Please," She pleaded quietly. "Tell me."

Canderous paused for a second and then, resigned to the fact that Mira wasn't going to let this go, began to talk. "It's like you said," He muttered gruffly. "Nar Shaddaa was your home. I thought if I took you back there, you'd realise how much you'd missed it and want to stay. I didn't want that."

Mira fixed him with a stern gaze. "It's not your choice where I go. If I wanted to leave I'd leave." She smiled slightly as he looked away, shamefaced, and softened her voice. "But luckily for you, I want to stay on Dxun with you. Even if you are a schutta at times." She pulled his head down to hers and kissed him swiftly. All of their embraces had to be brief for fear of being discovered by someone; neither of them felt that the clan was ready to know about their relationship quite yet.

When she released him, Canderous cleared his throat and locked his eyes on hers. "The ship leaves first thing in the morning. Don't keep us waiting."

Mira nodded and smiled, knowing that this was as close as Canderous ever came to apologising. She kissed him quickly once more, handed him his helmet, and left to prepare for their departure.


	6. A Message

Revan kicked her heavy boots off and leant back into the pilot's seat. With a sigh, she allowed her tired eyes to close and began to fidget, trying to find the least awkward position in the hard chair. Five years and the damn thing hadn't gotten any more comfortable. A small grin formed on her face as she remembered how much Carth had complained about it, until the day Jolee had threatened to replace it with a spike if he didn't stop whining. Carth had kept his grumblings to himself after that.

Something nudged her shoulder, dragging her out of her memories. Looking up, she discovered Kezia standing over her, a cup of steaming caffa in her hand. Revan smiled and thanked her quietly, taking the cup and sipping the hot beverage as Kezia flopped into the co-pilot's seat. Noticing the younger woman's appearance, Revan felt a twinge of sympathy. Her nose was still heavily bruised from when a particularly vicious kick had broken it; some fast healing after the battle had managed to set it back straight, but had done nothing to fade the splodges of purple and blue that marred her otherwise pretty face. A slight smell of burning still came from her hair, the only sign that she had gotten in the way of a large cloud of Force lightening.

"You look awful." Revan commented as she set her now almost empty cup of caffa on the floor.

Kezia snickered. "Five years on your own has done nothing for your people skills, you know."

Revan grinned and tipped her a wink. "Oh, I've always been like this. You wouldn't believe the amount of times I've been chased out of cantinas by offended patrons." Her smile faded slightly. "But seriously, are you alright? That was one hell of a beating you took."

"I'm fine." Kezia said, grimacing as she remembered the ambush they had walked into earlier on. After clearing out another temple they had returned to the Ebon Hawk exhausted. Unbeknownst to them, a group of the Sith they were hunting had boarded the ship and hidden themselves away. As soon as the Hawk was in flight they had launched their attack. It was a good job that they had T3 and HK-47 with them, or the fight would nearly have killed them.

"You sure about that?" Revan asked, unconvinced.

Kezia nodded. "It's just that I've never faced anything like them before. They move so quickly, and fight with such ferocity."

"I found it hard to get used to at first." Revan leant back into her chair again. "But eventually you pick up their style; the trick is not getting killed while you're learning it."

"Where are we going now? Another temple?" Kezia asked. Revan nodded, her eyes fixed forwards. Kezia shifted impatiently in her seat, aching to ask Revan questions about their mission. Although Revan had finally accepted that she would be following her, she seemed reluctant to share the details of what she had learned over the last few years. Whether this was out of some fear for her safety or just because she didn't trust her enough, Kezia didn't know. She had tried questioning her before with no result; maybe it was time to try again. Taking a deep, steadying breath she began. "Why are these temples so important?"

Revan stiffened in her seat and her eyes darted to Kezia. She stared at her for a long time in silence. Finally, just as Kezia was about to give up hope, she spoke. "I'm not sure…" Her eyes moved away from Kezia and she faced forwards again. "I didn't come here looking for them; I was looking for the True Sith. I had no idea what they were, or where to find them, I just knew that they were up to something and needed to be stopped."

"So you stumbled across the temples accidentally?"

"Yes." Revan nodded. "I found the first one on a wasteland of a planet. I… I felt it before I saw it. Well, you know how they feel." She glanced at Kezia in time to see her shudder. The temples had a way of sucking all that was good out of you, leaving only rage, jealousy and hatred. After years of fighting in them, Revan had almost grown accustomed to the feeling, but it still affected Kezia badly. "Anyway," Revan continued. "There were only a couple of them in there, nothing like the numbers we have to face now. I knew they were what I was hunting for straight away. As you said, they have their own distinctive style. After that first time I decided my best chance of finding the bulk of them was to track down more of the temples."

Kezia frowned. "But how do you know where to go? This is completely uncharted space…" She trailed off, and a look of realisation crossed over her face. "The holocrons."

"The holocrons." Revan confirmed. "They always show the same thing; a cloaked and masked Sith. He rambles on a lot, usual Sith teachings, and then gives directions to another planet with a temple. I'm hoping that if I follow the temples, I'll eventually get to whatever passes as their leader. That's why I've been out here so long; I've been following a very twisted path."

"I was going to ask why it only took me a year to find you when you'd been gone for five."

A small smile appeared on Revan's face. "There is a good side to that."

"What could be good about any of this?"

"It won't take us long to get home when we're travelling in a straight line."

Kezia returned Revan's smile, but it soon faltered. _Home. _During her ten years in exile she hadn't had a home. But after returning from her travels on the Outer Rim, she gained friends, a lover, even padawans. She missed them all desperately. The word _home _stirred a long forgotten memory in the back of her mind. _How could I have forgotten? _She wondered, gasping and sitting up straight in her chair.

Revan leapt out of her own chair, suddenly alert. "What's wrong?" She asked, quickly moving to Kezia's side. "Are your injuries hurting again?" She placed her hands gently on Kezia's shoulders and looked into her eyes, as if seeking out any pain that might be hidden there.

"No," Kezia shook her head. "I'm fine. It's just that – oh, I can't believe I forgot – I have a message for you!"

Revan's grip tightened slightly. "What kind of message? From who?"

"From Admiral Carth Onasi. He said-"

"You've seen Carth?" Revan interrupted, eyes widening. "Is he okay? _Admiral?_"

"He's safe and well, and yes he's an admiral. Didn't you know?" Kezia looked at Revan in confusion; Carth had given her the impression that they knew each other well.

"I didn't. He was a commander when I left. Admiral…" She grinned. "About time they give him a promotion."

Kezia cleared her throat. "He had a message for you."

Revan started. "Of course! What did he say?" Behind the great anticipation in her eyes, Kezia could see no small amount of worry.

"He asked me to tell you that he's waiting for you."

Revan's grip on Kezia loosened and her hands fell away. She made her way unsteadily back to her seat and let her head flop into her hands. Kezia stared at her with concern; she had thought that this news would bring Revan happiness, not pain.

"I'm fine, Kezia." Revan said, as if reading her mind. "I'm just relieved. After all this time… To discover that he is still waiting for me…" She let out a shuddering sigh and raised her head. "I thought that maybe…" She shook her head. "Never mind."

"You miss him?"

"All of the time." Revan smiled sadly. "Even after all this time it doesn't get any easier."

"He said something similar."

"That doesn't surprise me." She chuckled. "We always thought far too alike for our own good." She settled herself in her chair, now more comfortable, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Still, at least I won't have to miss him for much longer."

Kezia frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I told you that there were only a couple of Sith in the very first temple I found. How many are there in each temple now? Thirty? Forty? There were close to fifty in that last one, and more than a dozen waiting for us on the ship when we got back. We're getting closer to whoever it is who leads them, and they're trying harder and harder to stop us."

* * *

The last of the Sith fell to the ground, the bright red beam of his lightsaber flickering off. Revan and Kezia stood in the middle of a pile of bodies, both panting and doubled over. T3 rolled forwards and beeped a worried question to HK. 

"Condescending answer: There is no need to worry, trash compactor. All meatbags, including our master, are weak. You must allow them time to rest their squishy parts."

Kezia and Revan exchanged exasperated looks. "I wish he'd stop talking about my squishy parts." Muttered Kezia, pushing her sweat soaked hair out of her face.

Revan pulled herself up to her full, if rather unimpressive, height and placed her hands on her hips. "HK, I may be weak, but any more comments like that and somehow I'll find the strength to dismantle you with a rusty vibroblade."

"Sarcastic statement: I have missed your subtlety, master."

Revan rolled her eyes and turned her back on the insufferable droid. "Are you alright? Any bad injuries?" She asked Kezia.

Kezia shook her head and gave her a lopsided grin. "Nothing a medpac and some Tarisian ale can't fix."

"That's the spirit." Revan returned her smile and began moving towards the holocron. Kezia stood stiffly, waiting to be told to return to the Ebon Hawk; Revan never let her see or hear the recordings. The command never came. Instead, when she had reached the holocron, she beckoned Kezia over to her side.

Raising her hand, Revan let the Force flow through her into the large, pyramid shaped holocron. The recording sprang into life immediately, and it was just as Revan had described. Kezia was slightly crestfallen when she realised that she didn't understand whatever language was being spoken. The robed man in the recording was giving voice to a serious of guttural growls and hisses. As he spoke, Revan tapped frantically on her datapad, presumably entering the directions to the next temple. The recording ended only a couple of minutes after it began.

Revan hit several more keys on the datapad and then pocketed it, a look of worry and confusion on her face. "What is it?" Kezia asked.

"The recordings are normally a lot longer, filled with preaching. But this one only had directions to the next temple."

"Is that good or bad?" Kezia frowned.

"I don't know," Revan said, pulling her lightsaber out from her belt. She flicked it on and drove it into the centre of the holocron, causing it to shatter. "Let's hope for the former."


	7. Homecoming

Dustil shuffled down the loading ramp of the small transport shuttle. He stretched, wincing as the muscles in his back and legs screamed in protest. The long trip to Dantooine hadn't been the pleasantest of experiences; days spent cramped in what amounted to little more than a tin with several disgruntled mercenaries wasn't exactly Dustil's idea of fun. He tried to comfort himself with the idea that it would be the last trip he'd be taking for a long time, but that just made him feel worse. It meant that he wouldn't be seeing his father or Lysa for months, maybe even years.

The sight of Dantooine in the early morning light helped to raise his spirits. It'd been years since he'd last visited the planet. He'd only ever been there once before, and that was when he was a child. After the attack on Telos, the Sith who had taken him had been forced to land there because of a problem with the ship's hyperdrive. They had landed in the middle of a field, as far away as possible from any Jedi who might see them and attack. Dustil had been forced to remain on the ship while they made the repairs, and had only caught brief glimpses of the planet's beautiful landscapes. He fully intended to make up for the lost experience on this trip.

He began the short walk to Khoonda, intent on finding directions to the Jedi Enclave there. He didn't pass many people on the way there; the only people awake just after dawn were those hired to work on farms, who had to make long treks out onto the plains every morning. Everyone he saw looked as if they were still longing for bed, and Dustil felt himself sympathising with them. Over the last few days of his journey he'd only managed to snatch a few hours of sleep, not trusting the mercenaries not to steal what few credits he had while he napped.

The buildings of Khoonda were beginning to grow bigger, and a wave of relief almost engulfed him. Finally, a place to sit, eat and drink before the long walk to find the Jedi Enclave. As he reached the entrance to the main building, he suddenly felt the urge not to go in. A small voice in his head ordered him not to enter, forcing him to freeze in his tracks. He knew that the overwhelming commands were not coming from himself but from another, someone who was invading his mind to force him to obey.

Gathering all of his willpower, he threw the voice off, expelling the intruder from his mind. It wasn't long before it came back, ordering him once again not to enter Khoonda. With great difficulty he managed to push it out of his mind for a second time. Normally he would find it easy to mentally defend himself, but days with little food or sleep meant that his resistance was worn down. The third time he heard the voice it was pleading, not ordering. _Please, Dustil, do not go inside. _This time the voice sounded familiar. He struggled desperately to remember where he had heard it before, but couldn't quite place it. _Who are you? _He thought, hoping that whoever was trying to communicate with him would hear his question.

Instantly an image flashed into his mind. A Jedi, a Cathar, standing at Revan's side and glaring at him suspiciously the time when his father had found him on Korriban. This image was quickly replaced by another: the same Jedi meditating with him, attempting to help him control his abilities, on Telos during the brief time everyone was there together. "Juhani!" He gasped aloud. Then, conscious of the workers who were beginning to emerge from their houses, he lowered his voice. "Where are you?"

The voice was back in his head, this time giving him directions. He soon found himself back in the docking area, his eyes probing the shadows. Juhani stepped out of the gloom, a smile playing around the corners of her lips. Dustil began to rush forward to embrace her but quickly stopped himself, remembering how she hated to be touched by most people. He settled for resting his hands lightly on her shoulders, which she seemed to be just about comfortable with.

"Dustil." She smiled. "I'm sorry about the invasive way I used to get you here, but I had to prevent you from entering Khoonda."

"It's no problem." He reassured her. "I know you wouldn't have done it unless you felt it necessary. But why can't I go into Khoonda?"

Juhani sighed. "The residents aren't overly fond of Jedi. If you'd have said something to identify yourself as one, the reception you'd have received would be… Frosty, at best."

"Oh," He grimaced. "Thanks for that. I was going to ask for directions to the Enclave."

"In that case it was fortunate that I was here."

"Yes, but what are you doing here? Have you just arrived?"

Juhani frowned and looked away. "No, I've been here for several days. I'm waiting for a friend to arrive, so when I heard that a vessel was arriving this morning I decided to see if she was on it."

"You came here all the way from the Enclave for that?" Dustil asked in disbelief.

"I haven't been to the Enclave yet, I've been waiting for my friend. But now that you're here," Her eyes flicked back to him and she smiled slightly. "I'll have to go. I don't want you running foul of kinrath on the way there."

Dustil grinned back and thanked her. "Are we leaving now?"

Juhani cast a look at the ship Dustil had arrived in, as if hoping to see someone else disembark. "Yes," She said reluctantly. "No other ships are due to arrive today, so there's no point in waiting here."

* * *

An hour later they arrived at the Enclave. Dustil was now almost asleep on his feet, and was finding it difficult to remain upright. Even though he was immensely curious about why Juhani was here, and who her mysterious friend was, he had been forced to stop talking to her at the beginning of their journey because of the need to conserve his energy. As they reached the entrance to the Enclave he tripped and almost fell, but Juhani's arm around his waist steadied him. He murmured his thanks and shook his head to try to clear his weariness. 

Juhani smiled around at her surroundings. The building had decayed much since her last visit, and the rooms no longer echoed with the noise of padawans clumsily trying to master their first blades, but she still felt as if she was home. Underneath the ancient tree in the courtyard, which had somehow managed to survive when the stone walls had not, Bastila sat meditating. Sensing them, she looked up as soon as they entered the room. Her jaw dropped and she pushed herself hurriedly to her feet. Juhani couldn't help but chuckle to herself; it was rare to see such displays of emotion from Bastila.

Bastila closed the space in between them in an instant and threw her arms around Juhani, hugging her tightly. After the stiffness that was caused by the initial shock of the embrace (she never could get used to any physical contact that wasn't fighting) she relaxed and returned the hug. When Bastila let go and stepped away she was grinning broadly. She gave Dustil's arm a quick squeeze before returning her attention back to Juhani. "What are you two doing here? We didn't expect to see you!"

"We?" Juhani asked. Then, realising who Bastila was referring to, she nodded. "Ah, Mical."

Bastila frowned. "How do you know about Mical? Have you met him?"

"No," Juhani muttered. "But I've met a friend of his."

"Who…"

A loud thump prevented Bastila from continuing her question. Both women turned to the source of the noise to find that Dustil had fallen to the floor, and was now fast asleep.

* * *

Having found Dustil a more suitable bed, Bastila and Juhani were back sitting under the tree. Mical, who had been preparing breakfast for Bastila and himself, had now joined them. As they talked, they nibbled on the fruit that had been freshly picked from the orchard outside of the Enclave. 

"So," Bastila said, licking her fingers to capture the stray fruit juice. "What are you doing here?"

"I can't speak for Dustil because he hasn't discussed it with me, but I just felt a… pull."

"A pull?" Bastila frowned.

Juhani nodded. "Yes. It's difficult to explain. At first I just dreamt about returning to Dantooine, but then the thoughts followed me into my waking mind. It was an irresistible urge to return here."

"Do you know why?"

"No." Juhani shrugged. "I just knew I had to come back."

"What about Mical's friend?"

Mical, who had been silent for most of the conversation, perked up. "My friend?" He asked, half hoping that Juhani meant Kezia even though he knew it was extremely unlikely.

"She said her name was Visas."

Mical's heart sank, but at the same time his curiosity was sparked. No one had heard anything about Visas since their group had disbanded; she hadn't even told anyone where she planned on going. "Where did you see Visas?"

"On my home world, Cathar." Juhani winced slightly as images of the ravaged planet flashed into her mind.

"You went to Cathar?" Bastila asked, surprised.

"I needed to make some sort of peace with what happened there. A lot of my anger, a lot of what tempted me to the Dark Side, stemmed from my fury about what happened to my planet and my people."

Mical threw an inquisitive look at Bastila, and in response she murmured, "Juhani's home world was almost destroyed during the Mandalorian Wars."

"But what was Visas doing there?" Mical asked.

"Like mine, her planet had been annihilated. She too wanted to make peace, and was visiting planets tainted by death and destruction to try and find some meaning in it."

"Where is she now?"

"She should be here." Juhani frowned, looking worried. "We agreed to meet here after she visited Katarr, her home world." She saw Bastila open her mouth and hurried to answer her question before she could ask it. "Yes, she also felt the same pull to come here."

Bastila crossed her arms and leant back against the trunk of the tree. "I wonder if Dustil felt the same thing." She mused to herself.

A soft cry came from near the entrance. They were all on their feet in an instant, suddenly alert. Both Bastila and Juhani reached for their lightsabers, but Mical just squinted his eyes to try and see into the shadows near the door. He reached out to stop them from unsheathing their weapons, and in response to their questioning looks he only shook his head. "Stay here." He murmured, hopping down off the mound of grass and moving quickly towards the door.

Bastila and Juhani waited nervously, hands hovering over the hilts of their lightsabers in case Mical should need help. When a few minutes past with no word from him, Bastila called out tentatively, "Mical, who is it? Is everything okay?"

Several more seconds went by in silence. They had just decided to go and investigate when Mical emerged from the shadows. He was holding a small boy by the hand. "It's Izi." He announced, a large grin on his face.


	8. Old Friends

_Carth rolled over in bed and stretched out his arm, blindly groping for Revan. Instead of brushing against her soft skin, his fingers found only cold mattress. Groaning, he forced himself to open his eyes and propped himself up on his elbow. He longed to go back to sleep for a couple of hours, but he only wanted to if Revan was curled up next to him. Besides, now he knew that she was awake so early he'd have to go and make sure that she was alright. A lot of the time when nightmares woke her she'd crawl out of bed to go and sob quietly in the next room, in the hope that Carth wouldn't catch her crying. _

_Blinking in the darkness, his eyes searched the room, trying to make out whether she was in the chair or standing by the window. When he'd established that she wasn't in the bedroom he sat up and swung his legs off the bed, wincing as his feet touched the chilly floor. He plucked his trousers from a tangled pile of his and Revan's clothes, which had been thrown carelessly on the floor the previous night. He padded noiselessly over to the living room, making sure to be quiet in case she was asleep on the sofa. _

_The light was on in the living room but there was no sign of Revan. Frowning, he moved over to the kitchen and stuck his head through the door; she wasn't there either. From where he stood, Carth could see that the door to the refresher was open and it was dark inside, but he went to check it anyway and found it empty. With mounting worry, he began to run through the possibilities of where she could be. Mission's? The cantina? As he went in search of a search, he decided to head to the cantina first. He didn't want to disturb Mission unless it was absolutely necessary; she worried over Revan almost as much as he did, and would panic if she thought she was missing. _

_After throwing on the nearest clean shirt and slipping his feet into a pair of battered boots, he headed for the door. He grimaced as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. It was painfully obvious that he had just gotten out of bed, but that couldn't be helped; he didn't have time to do anything about his appearance. He opened the door and strode into the hall, colliding with Mission who had been standing just outside._

_Despite just having been ploughed into by someone more than twice her size, Mission looked happy. Before Carth could apologise she flung her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. "You're still here!" She sounded relieved. "I thought you'd run off." _

_Carth disentangled himself from her and pushed her away gently. "What do you mean?" _

_Mission frowned. "Don't you know about the Ebon Hawk?" _

"_What about it?" _

"_I couldn't sleep so I went to the Hawk to search for my pazaak deck. Big Z left it there the last time we were onboard, and it's my best-" _

"_Mission!" Carth interrupted, grabbing her by the shoulders. "What about the Ebon Hawk?"_

"_It's gone."_

* * *

Carth woke with a jolt. He automatically reached out for Revan but then quickly snatched his hand back, not wanting to feel the empty space beside him. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, trying desperately to banish the dream from his mind. It wasn't the first time he'd had it, he'd been dreaming about the night Revan disappeared for the past five years. Every detail and sensation of those frantic hours spent searching for her were burned into his memory. Knowing that it was pointless to try and get back to sleep, he reluctantly got up and went to brew some caffa. 

The apartment hadn't changed much since Revan left. Various items of her clothing and the worthless knick knacks that she loved were strewn about, lying where she left them. One of her books was still on the table, open at the last page she had read. Before she left Carth had constantly complained about how she messed up their home; now he was grateful for her clutter. It reassured him that, whether it would be tomorrow or in a decade, she would return.

While Carth was preparing his caffa, someone hammered on the door. He froze. The last person who had dropped by the apartment was Lysa, and that hadn't been a pleasant visit. Furious about Dustil's flight from Telos, but unable to take her anger out on the man himself, she had settled for screaming at Carth. By the time she left he had come to the conclusion that he'd never received a worse dressing down from any of his superiors during all his time serving in the military.

Silently praying that it wouldn't be Lysa, he crossed over to the door. He opened it only partially at first, but when he saw who his visitors were he flung it wide open. "Mission! Zalbaar! What are you two doing here?"

* * *

An hour later and Carth, Zalbaar and Mission were spread out on the lounge's soft chairs and sofas. Carth couldn't believe how much Mission had grown. He hadn't seen her since a year after Revan's departure, when she had accompanied Zalbaar back to Kashyyyk. Four years had done a lot to change her. The mischievous glint in her eyes was as strong as ever, but she had matured a lot. Not only that, but Carth was stunned to hear that she was planning to marry a man named Matton before the year was out. Matton was one of the few humans still living on Kashyyyk; he had been allowed to stay for his part in aiding the Wookies in their uprising against the Czerka slavers. He and Mission had met when she first arrived on the planet, and had formed a strong friendship. Over the past year they had become much closer, and had decided to marry shortly before Mission left for Telos. 

The name Matton sounded very familiar to Carth, but he couldn't quite place it. Eventually, after wracking his brains, he remembered where he knew it from; Matton was the indentured servant who Revan had freed from the corrupt merchant Eli Gand. Carth was outraged; Matton was at least twice Mission's age. However, when Mission pointed out that there was more than a ten year age gap between him and Revan he was forced to shut up.

The three spent a long time getting reacquainted, informing each other of what they had been doing since they parted ways. Eventually, though, Carth returned to his original question which had gone unanswered. He leant forwards in his chair, his fingers wrapped around a rapidly cooling cup of caffa. Looking from Mission to Zalbaar he asked, "So, what are you doing here?"

Mission and Zalbaar exchanged glances. Zalbaar growled something at her in Shyriiwook and she nodded in response. "I'll explain." She said, squeezing his arm lightly. She turned to Carth. "Zalbaar's father wants him to take over as chieftain."

Carth grinned. "That's fantastic!" As he looked at their grim faces his smile began to slip. "Isn't it?"

"It's wonderful!" Mission exclaimed. "Zalbaar's been preparing for this for years, and it shows that he's finally been accepted back into the community. But there's a problem."

"What?"

Zalbaar picked up the explanation, speaking in Basic for Carth's benefit. "I can not enter this kind of commitment while I still have a life debt. I need to be fully devoted to my people, and, as it stands, if Revan needed my assistance I would have to abandon them to go to her."

Carth frowned. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you were devoted to the village instead of her. She's offered to release you from the debt many times before."

"I never had a reason to accept her offer before. Now I have a worthy purpose, I can be freed from the debt without feeling any guilt. But she needs to officially release me from it."

"That's the problem." Mission sighed. "We need to find Revan before he can accept his position as chieftain."

"That's not the only reason we need to find her." Zalbaar rumbled in a low voice.

Mission shot him a warning look and quickly changed the subject. "Anyway, we were wondering if you'd-"

"Hold on a second," Carth interrupted, turning to Zalbaar. "What do you mean that's not the only reason?"

Mission hissed something at Zalbaar which Carth couldn't hear, but the Wookie ignored her and focused his attention on Carth. "There have been signs." At this, Mission rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, but Zalbaar ploughed on regardless. "Bad signs. We haven't read portents this bad since just before the arrival of the slavers."

"There's no use worrying him over some stupid superstition."

"It's not superstition!" Zalbaar growled. "Those with the knowledge have been reading the skies for signs of the future for generations."

Mission opened her mouth to retaliate but Carth cut across her. "I think I'd like to hear whatever he has to say, Mission." He said quietly. She fell silent, but looked deeply unhappy about it.

Zalbaar nodded his thanks to Carth and continued. "We have seen signs of coming disaster; a great battle on which hinges the fate of the galaxy."

"What does that have to do with Revan?" Carth asked.

Zalbaar looked at Carth incredulously. "She's enormously important. In her short lifetime, she has brought the Republic to the edge of destruction and then saved it. If there is to be a war that will change the galaxy as we know it, she will be central to it."

Carth sighed and leaned back in his chair. For a long time he sat in silence, processing the information he had just been giving. "Supposing the signs are right and there is to be a battle," Carth said slowly. "How do you plan on finding Revan? No one has heard anything from her since she left."

"We've thought a lot about this, and have decided that we need to speak to the last person who saw her." Zalbaar explained.

Finally, Mission broke her silence and spoke. "Canderous."


	9. In The Cantina

**Nar Shaddaa**

Mira had to restrain herself from running down the loading ramp. As her feet hit the solid ground of the landing pad she let out a happy sigh. This was life as it should be, buzzing with noise and activity. No matter how long she stayed there she knew she would never get used to the relative quiet of Dxun's jungles. She would always feel more comfortable on Nar Shaddaa; it was, after all, her home. The cool breeze made her skin tingle and for the first time she really appreciated the advantages of loose Jedi robes over cumbersome Mandalorian armor. To try to fit in, she wore the traditional armor almost all of the time while she was at the camp. Now, accompanied only by Canderous and a couple of the friendlier clan members, she was free to dress as she pleased.

Canderous clunked down the ramp and stood at her side as he began to survey his surroundings. Although his face was hidden by the ever present helmet, Mira knew that his eyes would be narrowed in distaste and his mouth would be drawn in a thin line. Nar Shaddaa had never been to Canderous's liking. All around him he saw only the weak and cowardly, those who would rather stab an opponent in the back than face them in a fair fight.

"Are you coming with us?" He asked, inclining his head towards Mira.

She shook her head. "I'll pass if it's alright with you. Bringing a Jedi in training along isn't exactly going to help you argue your case. Besides, there are a couple of old haunts I want to check out."

"Okay but make sure you're back here within a couple of hours. This won't take us long." He turned to check where his companions for the mission were and, finding that they were still on the ship, put a hand on Mira's shoulder and pulled her close. "Be careful." He ordered.

She had to fight the urge to laugh in his face. Suppressing the chuckle that wanted to escape from her throat she said, "I may not be all that great when it comes to cannoks, but I lived here almost my entire life. I can handle whatever this place wants to throw at me."

"Things are different now." He growled, plucking at the sleeve of her robe. "This garment marks you out as a target."

She rolled her eyes. "I'll be fine, Candy."

The comment hit the mark and distracted Canderous from his dire warnings. He stalked away muttering about lack of respect and inappropriate pet names. Mira grinned to herself as she headed off in the opposite direction. Her first stop was the cantina; if she was going to run into any of her old crowd it would be there. Besides that she wanted to remedy Dxun's severe lack of juma. It would be a test of her newly discovered mind altering abilities to try and get a hefty discount off the barman (although she wouldn't be relying entirely on mind tricks; the barman's soft spot for her would undoubtedly play a part in saving her a few credits).

She strode into the cantina and quickly scanned the room for familiar faces. Seeing no one that she knew, she hopped up on a stool and waited for the barman to notice her. When he finally looked up from serving a sinisterly steaming drink to a customer, his eyes flicked over Mira before he went to deposit the credits he'd just been given. He was halfway to the till when he stopped in his tracks and spun around to face her again. She grinned at him. "Hey Jace."

He responded with a broad smile of his own. "Mira!" Hastily pocketing the credits, he hurried over to her. "Where have you been, kid? No one's heard anything from you for months."

"I relocated."

"Glad to hear it. For a while we all thought that walking fur ball…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "But never mind that, we shouldn't have doubted your skills. Speaking of," He eyed her robes. "What's with the outfit? I thought you bounty hunters went in for a lot of leather."

Mira shifted in her seat, feeling slightly uncomfortable. "I've had a change of career. I'm a Jedi now, or training to be one anyway."

"A Jedi?" He almost shouted. Mira winced and he realised how loud his voice was. He grinned apologetically. "A Jedi." He repeated, quieter this time. "I have to say, I didn't see that-" He broke off suddenly, his brow furrowing. When he remained silent Mira began to worry.

"Jace?" She asked, leaning towards him. "You alright?"

"Yeah, fine." He replied absently. "There was someone in here looking for you a couple months back. A Jedi. Or he had a lightsaber clipped onto his belt at least."

Mira's first thought was that it was one of the Sith who had hunted Kezia so ruthlessly during their time together. Somehow they'd found out that there was another Jedi and now they were coming after her. She had faith in her abilities but even she doubted she'd be able to handle them on her own if they attacked. Suddenly she wished that she'd listened to Canderous and taken him a little more seriously; she felt very conspicuous in the robes that identified her as a Jedi. Forcing herself to calm down, she turned her attention back to Jace. "What did he look like?" She asked.

Jace frowned as he tried to recall the details of the stranger. "Tall, dark haired. Tried to drink our entire stock of juma and lost a small fortune on pazaak while he was were."

A wave of relief flooded through Mira. _Atton. _The relief was quickly followed by confusion. She couldn't imagine what Atton wanted to find her for; the last time she had seen him he'd been too wrapped up in self pity about Kezia's disappearance that he hadn't even noticed when she had left for Dxun. "Did he say what he wanted me for?"

"He wasn't all that clear." Jace shrugged. "To tell you the truth he didn't seem all there." He tapped a finger against his forehead. "If you understand me. He kept muttering something about finding someone. Mentioned Telos a couple of times too."

There was a loud scraping as Mira pushed the stool back and hopped to the floor. Jace's face fell. "Are you leaving already?"

"Sorry Jace. Something's come up." She called over her shoulder as she jogged towards the door. All thoughts of juma now gone from her mind, she could think only of finding Canderous and telling him of what she had discovered.

* * *

Canderous stared at Mira in disbelief. "You want to go…to Telos." He repeated quietly. 

Mira nodded. "He said that Atton kept talking about it. We need to go."

"You don't even know if it was Atton. There are millions of idiots who get drunk and blow their credits on cards."

"It was him! I don't know how, but I know it was him." She sighed.

"Mira, this could delay us for weeks-"

"I'm going with or without you." There was a fierce glint in her eyes as she spoke.

Canderous recognised the determined look on her face instantly. There was no point in arguing when she had that look. "Is it that important to you?"

"Yes. It's just an instinct, but Kezia always said that following her instincts had saved her life more than a couple of times."

Canderous stared at her hard for a long time. Eventually he sighed and turned to the two men who had accompanied them. "Load up the ship." He ordered. "We're heading for Telos."

* * *

**Korriban **

Atton lay crumpled on the cold floor of the cave. Although he heard the sound of heavy feet thudding towards him, he didn't open his eyes. He could no longer see; his vision was shrouded in darkness. He considered this to be a small mercy as it meant that the visions of Kezia could no longer torment him.

The feet stopped near his head. He couldn't see whoever it was but he could feel them. Waves of dark energy rolled off them, almost pushing him down into the floor.

"_Get up." _A voice snarled.

The language he spoke in wasn't familiar to Atton, but he could still understand him. He didn't question how he could do this, instead he got to his feet.

"_You will come with us." _A second voice hissed.

Images of Kezia flashed through his mind. She wasn't as she had been during their time together. Now hatred shone from her eyes rather than the compassion that had been there; her lips curled in a sadistic smile rather than her familiar sweet one. In that moment Atton lost all memory of the real Kezia; he now knew only the one who tortured him nightly. His heart hardened, and the last spark of love he felt was crushed and turned to hate.

When he spoke it was in the unfamiliar tongue of his new companions. _"I will come with you."_


	10. Training

**_Updates might be a little erratic for a while because of exams (although I'm going to try to be regular). Sorry to anyone who's reading this! _**

* * *

The ship was like no other that Atton had been on before. The darkness that shrouded his eyes prevented him from seeing his surroundings, but the place felt like a tomb. The air was unmoving and stale; he felt as if it was pressing down on him, trying to crush him. There was a too sweet smell of something like fruit or flowers rotting which caught in the back of his throat and almost made him choke. 

He was being led somewhere, following the sound of heavy footsteps clanging against the metal floor. A hand against his chest forced him to halt and he heard the swish of a door sliding open. The hand on his chest moved to his shoulder and pushed him gently through the doorway. It guided him through the room until something solid bumped into his waist. He was helped up onto what he presumed to be a table and pressure on his shoulders forced him to lie down. He followed all directions wordlessly, not questioning or even thinking about why he was doing it.

After a moment's pause, fingertips brushed over his temples. It was the first time those who he had come to call his saviors had touched his bare flesh. It was like someone was pushing ground glass into his head, the skin on the fingers was so rough and cracked. If he reached up to touch the place where the fingers rested he wouldn't be surprised to feel blood. The agonising caress continued as the fingers began to rub in small circles. Atton remained silent. Despite feeling as if his skin was being ripped open, he felt immensely weary. As the intensity and pressure of the stranger's touch increased, his breathing became deeper and more even. Eventually he lost his tentative grip on consciousness and fell willingly into a deep sleep.

* * *

_Atton stood alone in a pitch black room. He didn't try to investigate his surroundings or find a way out; a voice in his head told him to wait and he obeyed, as he had obeyed every order since being plucked from the cave on Korriban. _

_He wasn't kept waiting for long._

"_I knew that this was your only potential." A voice echoed through the cavernous room. _

_Kreia. Atton's hands balled into fists at his sides. His fingers itched to close around her wrinkled throat, but he had no idea where she was to attack her. Her voice sounded like it was coming from all around him. "I thought you were dead." He growled._

"_Ever the fool." There was amusement in her voice, laced within the sneering contempt. "Do you truly believe that I am the woman you knew as Kreia? No. She is no more than dust. I am but a mask for an invading energy, a familiar form to make this process easier for you." _

"_You never made anything easier, you vicious old witch." _

"_As always, you listen but do not hear." She sighed. "But no matter. Your ignorance will not prevent me from completing this necessary task." _

_Before Atton could say anything else, a force slammed into his mind. This wasn't like the sly probing of so many of the Jedi; this was as subtle as a fist in the face. It stormed through his mind, seemingly hunting for something. Sharp pain threatened to split his head in two. He had to fight to stay on his feet and his fingernails bit into the palms of his hands as he clenched his fists, drawing blood. The force dived through the layers of his mind, disturbing the murky waters of memories and feelings he had tried so hard to forget. _

_Eventually it screamed to a halt. It had found what it was looking for. The animal that Atton had been, the thing that took its pleasure only from pain and slaughter. It stalked restlessly in the cage that Atton had built for it, throwing itself against invisible walls, trying to break free. If there was any part of the Atton that had devoted himself to Kezia left, it now bellowed in terror and rage. If any such part existed, it wasn't strong enough to prevent what Atton knew was about to happen. The barriers that caged the monster, the bars that Atton had so carefully constructed, dissolved in a second. The monster howled in triumph and stampeded up through Atton's mind, back to where it could take control. _

_The penetrating force left as quickly as it had come, leaving only Atton and his demon. Even Kreia was silent now. The demon flowed through Atton's arms and legs, checking the shape he was in and flexing his muscles appreciatively. It settled itself in, taking control of body and mind. Any good parts of Atton fled to the darkest regions of his mind. Now Atton was the monster he had been years before. _

_A soft whimper came from somewhere in front of him. A grin curved his lips._

"_Atton?" A voice called hesitantly. "Wh-Where are you?" _

_There was no mistaking the owner of this voice, even in the complete darkness. Kezia. Not the sadistic vision of her from Korriban, nor the strong warrior who had taken the weight of the dying Republic and Jedi Order onto her shoulders. This was Kezia as Atton had never known her. Terrified. He could feel the fear rolling off her in waves. It was almost a tangible thing; he was almost convinced that he could taste and smell it. _

"_Atton?" Her voice rose with panic. "Please don't leave me like this! I need you." _

_Atton stepped forwards. "I'm here, babe. Don't worry." He followed the sound of her ragged breath until he found her. When his hand brushed against her shoulder, he pulled her hard against him and wrapped his arms around her, preventing escape. _

_Kezia seemed oblivious to the change in her lover and student. She buried her head in his chest and let out a long sigh of relief. "For a moment I thought you were going to leave me on my own."_

"_I'd never leave you." He muttered against the top of her head. As he held her, he tried to recall the feelings his former self had had for her. He knew that he had loved her, but it was just a memory. He had no recollection of what it felt like. All he felt now was overwhelming lust and a burning desire to mutilate her delicate frame, to make her pay for every twisted mind trick that she and her worthless kind had ever played on him. _

"_Just think of what you need," Kreia whispered in his head. "And it will be yours." _

_Immediately an image jumped into his mind. The knife that Revan had presented to him shortly after he had been recruited. The handle had been made of intricately carved black stone, and the blade was long and jagged. No sooner had he thought about this beloved weapon than he felt a weight against his hip. _

_It's like I never left, He thought as he began to draw the blade. _

* * *

The Sith that held Atton firmly by the head smiled. 

"_Is it working?" _His companion asked, leaning over and peering into Atton's face.

"_Yes. He will make an excellent weapon, when the time comes." _


End file.
